


old story (like an old friend)

by angelicaaaa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicaaaa/pseuds/angelicaaaa
Summary: King Aerys' reign brought Seven Kingdoms to the edge of ruin. Despised by many, he saw treason in every corner, threatened by everyone, guilty and innocent alike. Thinking his heir will stab him in the back, he wed Prince Rhaegar to Lyanna Stark, unaware that this would be his greatest gift to his son.Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was born to be a king. The only question is "When?"





	1. The Gift

“I am at your command, Your Grace.” Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen bowed his head towards his father, his indigo eyes betraying the confidence he seemed to have in his straight posture. 

King Aerys Targaryen had a dangerous glint in his dead, dark eyes. They used to be a bright violet, unmarred by the burden of being a prisoner in his own kingdom for so long. Now, they almost looked black even in the bright light coming into the Throne Room from the scorching King’s Landing sun. 

The King stared at him for a while without speaking. Rhaegar exchanged a subtle look with his friend, Ser Arthur Dayne. The King rarely blessed his son with his presence, prefering to stay away from the prince that he deemed a threat. His Grace’s madness was a common knowledge in the Seven Kingdoms, from the yellow deserts of Dorne to the Wall in the North.

When the King finally spoke, air went out of Rhaegar’s lungs for a second. “You have reached one and twenty, yet you still remain unwed. Do you know why my boy?” Rhaegar did not. 

To everyone’s amazement, the Crown Prince had not been married yet with a maiden form a powerful house, as most princes did before they were even past the age of manhood. Marriages were used as weapons to secure allegiance and alliances. Even Rhaegar himself had not expected to be able to avoid being married to someone for this long. He used to think that he would be married to Cersei Lannister, for she was a beautiful maiden from the most powerful family in Westeros, the exception being the Targaryens of course. Rhaegar scowled with the thought of the Lannister maiden. As pretty as she was to look at, there was nothing good about her on the inside.

“I do not Your Grace. Have you found a maiden worthy of our family so that another Targaryen heir might be born into this world?” 

“I delayed your marriage as long as I could to prevent these lowly lords from having their unworthy girls in your bed.” But your useless Queen cannot produce a wife for you to bed, so you have to wed some lords’ whore.” Aerys’ voice was dangerously quiet now. He did not like the idea of having someone not of royal blood amongst them, but there was naught to be done.

Again, Rhaegar bowed his head respectfully. “Who is this maiden that I shall be married to?” He prayed to the Seven that it not be the Lannister girl.

“Lyanna Stark!” screamed Aerys.

“That traitorous wolf is plotting behind my back. He is wedding his heir to Tully’s daughter, and has close ties to Baratheon and Arryn. No, we cannot let our lords have this much power. Now we shall see what he does when we have his daughter.”

Rhaegar wondered about Rickard Stark’s intentions. Though it did not matter anymore, as wedding to her daughter meant his allegiance if the man loved his daughter. He shuddered at the thought of what Aerys might do to the girl if her father rebelled. Aerys liked to burn those he deemed traitors alive, no matter guilty or innocent. 

Though he did not like the idea of being married, as it brought the burden of protecting his wife, and later his children as well, marrying the girl could be worth 40,000 men with Stark banners on their back. If only he could keep her safe from his father’s eyes, maybe Lord Stark would pledge allegiance to him, not Aerys.

“When will the marriage take place, Your Grace, if I may ask?” The sooner, the better. If he needed to end the suffering of the realm in the hands of his father, he needed more men. As soon as he met the Starks, he would have the guarantee the strength of at least one Great House. The rest would follow. He didn’t want to think what would happen otherwise.

“You leave tomorrow for Winterfell. Bring your betrothed here yourself. If Starks do not comply, you take that girl and drag her by the hair if you must!” Aerys craned his neck further to see Rhaegar’s reaction. Perhaps he did this to anger his son. Little did he know how much a marriage like this would bolster Rhaegar’s plan.

“As you command, Father. If that is all, may I take leave and prepare for the journey?” 

Aerys nodded carelessly, as if he was talking to a stable boy rather than his son who he sent on a journey that would take months to complete.

Rhaegar bowed his head once again. It would not do well to show disrespect to the King, not when he was this close to deposing him. 

He turned his back to the king and walked out of the hall. Behind him, Aerys broke into a vicious smile on the Iron Throne.


	2. A Queen's Blessing

Rhaegar threw himself on the bed the moment he entered his chambers. Behind him Arthur Dayne followed him and dismissed the servants to have some privacy with his friend even though no such thing was ever possible in King’s Landing. Varys’ little birds seemed to be everywhere, listening Rhaegar’s every word, watching his every action. Aerys did not even trust his own kin, wanted to know what his son did, to whom he spoke to.

“What am I supposed to with a wife Arthur? How am I going to protect her? I can’t even protect myself from…” He did not finish the sentence. Aerys did not need to know what his son felt about him. If he heard, Rhaegar would be in the Throne Room, before the Iron Throne, burning alive before the eyes of the court. Aerys would be delighted to be rid of him and no one would dare to raise his voice.

“I don’t know my friend, for I am a man of Kingsguard. We take no wives, sire no children.” Arthur looked radiant in his white armor, as if to prove his point. “We shall see what the Gods bring upon us.”

“We shall see.” Rhaegar whispered Arthur’s words back to him. “But I can’t afford to have something, let alone a wife, that my father can use against me. I can only hope Lord Stark will stand beside me, for we will become kin very soon.

“We ride for Winterfell tomorrow. I want as few men as possible to accompany us, and loyal men as well.” Loyal to me, he thought, but didn’t dare to say the words out loud. Arthur seemed to understand. He always did. 

After Arthur left the room, he heard a knock on the door. He expected servants to open the door, though all of them had left the room. Not waiting for his response, Queen Rhaella entered his chambers.

The queen looked as regal as she always did in her violet silks trailing after her, an elegant crown of silver shining on her light blonde hair. She stood tall and proud, though her face told a different story. Bruises and red marks in the shape of Aerys’ hand marred her beautiful face. Her cheeks were hollow and her eyes looked glassy. But unlike the usual sorrowful look on her face, this time she seemed almost hopeful. 

Things will change, thought Rhaegar, they are already changing. He hadn’t seen his mother look anything but mournful since Viserys’ birth. 

If there was a time when Aerys was kind to his queen, they were long gone. Every night, Aerys would visit his queen’s chambers and the two men of the Kingsguard would stand at her doors to prevent anyone from disrupting the King’s torment of his wife. Rhaegar wondered how they endured her mother’s screams. Rhaegar wondered how they stand by while Aerys burned little children and innocents. He wondered how they stood by while Aerys even breathed. He hated his father with every fiber of his being, but there was nothing to be done. At least not at the time.

“Why am I the last person in King’s Landing to be informed of my son’s wedding?” Rhaella asked with a stern voice, though her smiling eyes betrayed her. Rhaegar smiled at his mother. “Yes mother, it appears so. I am to wed Lord Stark’s daughter as the king commanded me.”  
At the mention of king, a shadow appeared on Rhaella’s face. Rhaegar went on to change the subject. “I will leave tomorrow for the North on the morrow with a small retinue of men. I am bringing Ser Arthur with me also. Father shouldn’t spare more men on my behalf. The Kingsguard’s duty is to stay here, protecting you. 

They let the lie slide as Rhaella placed a kiss on his son’s cheek.

“Congratulations, my dear. I only hope your marriage brings you joy.” Unlike mine went unsaid, yet both of them knew what Rhaella meant to say.

“I will see to Viserys now. Until we meet again, Rhaegar, I shall pray for you and your bride. Good luck on your journey.” Rhaella stood up from the chair and moved to the door. Rhaegar wished to say the same to her, but for what would a queen ever need luck? 

He ordered servants to wake him with sunrise, for he didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary. With the morrow, the promise of a better life, a happy realm, a hopeful future would arise.

In his sleep, dreams and nightmares blended into each other. That night he dreamt of a wolf with grey eyes, standing on a field, burning hot and red.


	3. Wolf's Den

The bleak, harsh lands of the North stretched farther than Rhaegar could hope to see, the landscape so different from the green fields of the Crownlands. Cold winds of the land of winter licked at his face. He was not used to such weather, having grown up in the mild climate of King’s Landing. He had never been north of Riverlands before, and it showed. He and his men were wrapped in thick leathers and fur cloaks though it seemed nothing could keep the stingingly chill air out. How can anyone live in this place, he thought, there seems to be nothing but winds, snow and ice. 

The Northmen were a strange people; rejecting all they deemed too frivolous, belittling Southrons lords as fools with no honor, praying to trees of all things… They were isolated from the rest of Seven Kingdoms too, marrying and forming alliances within Northern houses, until Rickard Stark showed a glimpse of interest in the South when he betrothed his heir Brandon to Catelyn Tully. Rhaegar couldn’t understand until seeing the North with his own eyes why this one kingdom alienated itself from the other six. 

Harsh places are made for harsh people, he thought. This was no place for tourneys or feasts or silk dress. Northern people were built for survival, not for pleasure. He certainly hoped that his bride would be a survivor, for a naïve, simple girl certainly wouldn’t endure the pit of snakes that was King’s Landing.

He pushed the ugly thoughts out of his mind. They had stayed in the keep of a lowly lord the night before, and been on the road for hours now. Winterfell’s towers could appear on the horizon anytime. 

Rhaegar was eager to finally arrive at their destination, as the journey on the Kingsroad had drained him. At the same time, he dreaded the moment he would enter through the gates of Winterfell. After so many years spent alone, he didn’t know what to do with a wife. Despite common belief, he was not experienced with ladies, preferring books over fighting and courting. There was also the matter of sharing his plans regarding his father with his future good-family, which felt more burdensome with each second. But it was urgent, and Rhaegar couldn’t waste more time, not when there was a possibility of having another great house pledging allegiance to him.

“I hope our raven has reached Lord Rickard. It seems that we will be arriving very soon.” Rhaegar said. 

Arthur nodded in agreement. “Perhaps we should ride faster, mayhaps we can make it to Winterfell before my nose falls off.”

His closest confidant looked no more like the famous Sword of the Morning, shivering uncomfortably under black furs. His lips had turned a light shade of blue and his nose was bloated and red. Rhaegar imagined he appeared the same way. The North had already made a mockery of the royal party.

“Oh, I don’t know Arthur, the purple of your eyes complements your lips now. You must be the prettiest knight in the vast lands of the North.” Rhaegar quipped with a slight smile on his lips.

Arthur let out a chuckle. “Ah, our prince is funny. And he is mistaken, for I can not be the prettiest knight if I am the only knight in this godforsaken place!”

They jested and bantered with the freedom granted by being away from the King and his spies. It had been years since he was not under Aerys’ watchful eyes, keeping track of his every move. 

After a while, the group arrived at the gates of the ancient home of the wardens of the North. Rhaegar spotted the Stark banner fluttering proudly in the wind, its grey and white blending in with the cloudy sky. The lookout perched on the castle’s walls shouted, and the doors opened. 

The royal envoy rode their horses into the courtyard slowly, with the prince ahead of his men.  
At the sight of his easily recognizable figure; men, women and children fell to their knees. Rhaegar walked towards the front line, where Lord Rickard and family awaited him.

“You may rise.” Rhaegar let the people of Winterfell rise on their feet with a loud and clear voice. Lord Rickard, despite his age, stood up gracefully and looked him right in the eye.

The Lord of Winterfell was a tall, sturdy man with a small, pointy beard on a long face and greying black hair tied at the nape of his neck. His sharp, grey eyes studied the prince carefully, as if to unearth his intentions. I shall reveal them to you soon enough, my lord, thought Rhaegar. 

Next to the lord stood his heir, Brandon Stark. The eldest Stark son matched Rhaegar in height and had the look of a warrior, a strong man. He had the same glaring stare in his eyes as his father’s. 

Rhaegar wondered why the two eldest Starks seemed to hardly contain their anger towards him. While it was true he had travelled to take away the only daughter of the great house, it was an honor to be marrying into the royal family. Any lord would be delighted to host the prince in their homes and see their daughter became a princess of House Targaryen, the future queen.

He let these thoughts dissipate and turned to the younger brothers. Eddard Stark had the Stark look his father had though he was shorter than both his father and brother. His greys eyes stayed on him, though not threatening. On his side was the youngest Stark sibling Benjen Stark. He was a boy of four and ten, with a small smile on his face, fascination evident in his sparkling, blue eyes. The boy seemed to be content with the presence of the crown prince in Winterfell, unlike his sister.

Lyanna Stark was a maid of five and ten, with black hair curling down her back. A head shorter than him and slender, she appeared to be on the threshold of womanhood. She was a pretty girl, with high cheekbones on a long, Northern face and grey, steely eyes that matched the gloomy sky above them. But her emotions showed easily on her face and they were not as pretty. The girl gave him a sharp look as if he took everything she held dear to her. 

In a sense, it was true. He would pluck her from the only home she ever knew, make her leave her kin and take her to a strange place, King’s Landing, impossibly different from her North, where she would be surrounded by liars. She would have to become one of them. It wasn’t a fate he would wish on anyone.

“I welcome you to Winterfell, Your Grace.” Lord Stark’s booming voice interrupted his dark thoughts. He went on to name his children, but Rhaegar didn’t need any introductions. He hadn’t come unprepared to the stronghold of his potential allies. He needed to know if he could trust them. He hoped he could.

When Lord Stark proposed going inside to have a private talk in his chambers, Rhaegar followed him inside to the wolf’s den.


	4. Swords of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar has a talk with the man who will soon be his good-father.

Rickard Stark eyed the Crown Prince scornfully, with disdain evident in his stormy eyes. The Mad King had sent a raven nearly a moon turn ago, asking for the hand of her daughter for his heir. Of course, everyone knew the King couldn’t be denied.

He had planned to betroth Lyanna to the young Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End, but unless he wanted to attract the king’s ire to the North, he couldn’t let the prince turn to King’s Landing empty-handed. With a single letter, the king had destroyed the alliance he would have brokered between the North, the Vale, Riverlands and Stormlands. And he would have his daughter as the lady of a great house.

Instead, his daughter was to be the future queen of Seven Kingdoms.

Lyanna never cared much for what other ladies took interest in. She was half horse when it came to riding, sparred with Benjen with real swords in her hand, wanted arrows and a bow for her name day. He had tried to make a proper lady out of her, but the girl didn’t know how to refrain from what he thought were unladylike behavior. He grew to accept his daughter the way she was, and loved her for it. It was hard to imagine his stubborn, rebellious Lyanna who preferred horses and swords to needlework and pretty dresses in Aerys’ court where lions and snakes lied through their breath.

But his precious girl would have to learn how suppress her urges if she wanted to be loved and respected by the people of King’s Landing. She would have to hold her tongue and smile prettily and fake pleasantries to treacherous lords and scheming ladies. 

Would the court squeeze the Wolf’s Blood out of her? Rickard grew sad at the thought. 

In the end, Lyanna would do her duty. Otherwise, the King would see them burn in the green fires that he seemed to like so much.

Rickard led the prince into his chambers, where they could be granted at least a little bit of privacy. He did not trust the men who arrived with the prince, as they could be the king’s spies. He didn’t even trust the prince, knowing his family and the madness within, but the man was to marry his daughter. It would be best to speak with him openly, hoping he was different from the madman the realm knew as their king. No one spoke a bad word of the Prince, everyone who knew him saying how a handsome, noble and kind man was. 

Rickard hoped the words were true. If the prince was anything like his father, the realm would not have peace in many years, unless someone finally gathered the courage to stand up against the Targaryens. And his daughter would suffer, in the hands of another madman. A better one to look at, with pretty words, but still a madman under all covers.

“As honored as I am by your father’s proposal, Your Grace, I wonder how that decision came to be.”

Prince Rhaegar let out a quiet sigh. “To be honest, I don’t know, my lord. One day, he woke up with the idea that you are being disloyal to him and next moment, I found myself betrothed to your daughter. No one can deny the King his wishes, not even his own son.”

Rickard nodded to show he understood what the prince meant. It appeared that the king’s paranoia extended to his kin as well. How could Lyanna ever be safe in such a place?

“I see.” He responded. There were many things he wanted to say, yet he kept all of them to himself. 

Rhaegar caught his hesitation, understanding the lord’s fears regarding Lyanna after his statements regarding the king.

“You have reason to be afraid, my lord, you would be a fool if you didn’t fear the life awaiting your daughter in King’s Landing. But I promise you, on my honor as this realm’s future king, I will protect your daughter from harm. I will keep her safe from the devils roaming in the Red Keep.”

“Even if the devil is the king.” He added with a low voice, as if talking to himself.

The lord heard him nonetheless.

Rickard inclined his head respectfully towards the prince, and nervously let out a breath. “Thank you, Your Grace. I shall be forever in your debt.”

The Lord of Winterfell stared into Rhaegar’s purple eyes with something resembling trust for the first time since they met in the courtyard.

“You must be tired, Your Grace after such a long journey. If you wish to rest before the feast, I will show you to your chambers. Is there anything else you wish to tell me?  
The Prince seemed uncharacteristically anxious. “Actually, my lord, there is an important matter I would like to confide in you and reach an agreement.”

Nothing could have prepared Rickard for the words that were to be spilled from the Prince’s tongue. 

“I am planning to overthrow my father and seize the throne for myself.”

Rickard was at a loss of words. The prince speaking of treason with such boldness was the last thing he expected. He took a few seconds to regain confidence to speak aloud.

“What you are saying is, Your Grace, treason. Against your own kin, no less.” Rickard stated pointlessly, as if Rhaegar didn’t know what his words meant.

Rhaegar sighed like he was expecting this reaction. “Of course, I am of aware of the fact, my lord. Yet I cannot find any other solution to the danger my father puts in every single person under his rule. Do you want me to stand by while my father burns the realm to ashes. If I do that, the only thing remaining of Seven Kingdoms will be our charred bodies.”

As isolated as the North was, Lord Stark was not oblivious to what went on in King’s Landing and the King’s perilous fascination with wildfire. The madman thought himself a dragon in man’s body. Someone needed to remind him that he was made of skin and bones and blood ran red in his veins, but the man wouldn’t have it unless it was spilled on the stairs of Iron Throne.

A look of understanding passed between two men. Rickard didn’t want to yield so easily, but if his daughter was to play the dragon’s wife in King’ Landing, he couldn’t have the Mad King stay on the Iron Throne. If the man posed an immense threat to even his own kin, what would he do to a daughter of House Stark? 

The North had stayed away from the game of thrones for the better part of the century. But with the dragon’s visit to Winterfell, things would start to change. Rickard hoped not for the worse.  
The game was brutal, and the price of victory could be devastating. Yet if the Prince won, the Starks would be awarded like no other House.  
“I understand, my prince. And what is it that you want from me? You already have my daughter’s hand.” Rickard knew exactly what the prince wanted, but he would like to hear the words come from Rhaegar’s own mouth.

“I need to know that you will stand beside me when the time comes. I need your word, my lord.” Rhaegar seemed troubled, the sound coming out slowly as if he tried to process the meaning behind them even as he spoke.

“Words are wind. They mean nothing. But if it is the sword on my back and the strength of the North you want, you shall have it. That is, as long as my daughter is kept out of harm’s way.”


	5. A Dance in Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna finally has a talk with her betrothed.

Before the Prince came to her doors to escort her to the Great Hall for her father to announce the betrothal at the beginning of the feast, Lyanna wept for the first time since her father told her she would be marrying the Dragon Prince. 

Taken from one man only to be given to another. She didn’t like the prospect of marrying the drunken, whoring brute that was Robert Baratheon either, but at least the lord had accepted to wait for some more time to declare the betrothal and for Lyanna to depart from Winterfell for Storm’s End. And he was Ned’s friend after all, so he wouldn’t hurt her, at least not physically. She would have been safe, not happy, but away from the evils of the court. But there was no escaping the King’s order. Lyanna was to leave with a man who she didn’t know at all, and for King’s Landing, the worst place she could ever imagine living in. How could she ever trade the endless lands of the North, always covered under a blanket of snow, for the liars and traitors that were the courtiers, under the hot sun of the South?

It was a cruel fate, yet every highborn girl suffered a similar one. Lyanna never thought she would be an exception, but she wasn’t expecting to be a princess either. Her future had always been to be the lady of a keep, to please her husband and bear his children. She didn’t know the first thing about the etiquette of the court, how was she supposed to become queen one day and see to the affairs of a whole kingdom? And at her side would be her husband, a man she didn’t know anything about other than his name.

She dried her tears, and donned her best dress, for Lord Rickard wouldn’t be pleased to see her daughter anything less than beautiful in front of her new betrothed. And she didn’t want anyone to see her as a weak, frightened girl who cowered before the will of a mad man. She was a Stark, and wolves weren’t scared of dragons.

Her dress was made of blue velvet with silver embroidering in the shape of flowers on the corset. She put on a grey cloak trimmed with a fur of the same blue as her dress. Her maid had put her hair in a twisted bun at the nape of her neck, with a few strands framing her face. She looked nice enough, she supposed, but not regal or elegant, not like what a queen or a princess was supposed to look like. She looked like a little girl, and she felt like one, playing a lady in her mother’s clothing. Still, the garments complemented her coloring and she looked comely enough in the dress. 

Her Lord Father would be delighted at the sight of her.

There was a knock on the door, and her maid went ahead to open the doors, which revealed her betrothed, looking every bit of a prince in his red and black doublet, the sigil of his house, the three-headed dragon stitched finely on the leather. 

No doubt, the prince was a handsome man, but there were many handsome men in the realm. No, there was something else to him, something other than the beauty of his face that made him appear otherworldly. His long, silver hair fell to his shoulders gracefully, more than Lyanna’s own dark mane ever did and his eyes were a brilliant shade of indigo, a mesmerizing dark blue. She didn’t know if these traits were common in the South, but they most certainly weren’t in the North where men were dark and far from elegant. He would look like prince even if he wore a flour sack, though Lyanna.

Lyanna wondered if all Targaryens possessed the the air of royalty that surrounded the Prince. 

She stood up abruptly as the Prince walked towards her. 

“Lady Stark, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I hope you are as pleased as I am with our betrothal.” The prince had a gentle, melodic voice as he said the kind words. Lyanna didn’t know if he lied when he said he was pleased. She wondered how he felt about being married off to her because of his father’s irrational distrust for her father. 

Well, no matter how he felt, he wasn’t the one to be taken away from her home to a strange place filled with strangers.

“I am, Your Grace. Few maidens can hope for such an excellent match. I am grateful to His Grace if he saw me fit to become a part of your family.” Lyanna lied through her teeth. As much as she hated the situation, it wouldn’t do well to anger the prince and bring the king’s fury to Winterfell. 

The prince smiled at her as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but let it slide. He offered up his arm. “If you are ready, my lady, shall we leave for the feast?”

Lyanna took his arm wordlessly and together, they left her chambers for the Great Hall.

In the North, they rarely spent coin on trivial things like feasts, but her father had though that a visit from the prince, for a betrothal no less, deserved every single source that could be devoted to hosting their guests. Cooks had been busy planning the meals for days. Lord Rickard had imported enough barrels of Arbor Wine that could fill a thousand men for a moon. He had even found a bard to entertain the royal part, as it was a well-known fact that the prince liked his harp and songs.

Apart from the men from King’s Landing, her father’s most important bannermen would be in attendance as well. It wasn’t common for a Northern family to wed into the South, and Lyanna was marrying the prince. Northern lords hoped to win the favor of the future king and queen, who would have close ties to the North. When their Northern Queen ascended to the throne, she would certainly favor her homeland, wouldn’t she?

Lyanna and the prince took their places on the high dais in the Great Hall, reserved for the Stark family and their revered guests. She sat to the left of her father, while Rhaegar sat on his right. Lyanna was relieved that she wouldn’t have to speak with him for the rest of the night. To her other side sat Ned and Benjen, which gave her some comfort. 

Below them sat many lords and ladies, some of which Lyanna recognized. She saw the young Lord Roose Bolton of Dreadfort, sitting before the flayed man of his banners. The fat Lord Wyman Manderly was also present along with his sons. Karstark, she knew, would be here as well, for they were kin. She found the iron fist of House Glover, the battle axe of House Cerwyn, the bear of House Mormont and so on. She saw the crannogmen in below all, members of House Reed of Greywater Watch. They were easily recognizable by their unusually green eyes, noticeable even from the dais, and small figures swallowed by green, oversized garments.

Though most of them were names without faces for her, Lyanna found solace in their presence. 

Her lord father rose to his feet, and the sound of guests slowly died down. “My lords, my ladies, I am honored to announce the betrothal of my daughter, Lyanna of House Stark, to our Crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Everyone in the hall knew why they were gathered in Winterfell before the announcement, but still, they all turned their eyes on her. Lyanna blushed under the intensity of their stares. 

Suddenly, the guests let out a thunderous applause, and she smiled gratefully at them.

Lord Rickard gestured to the servants to bring out the food and the wine. Sweet pumpkin soup would be served first to appetize the guests. Then a main course consisting honeyed chicken and venison pies would be brought out, as was common in Winterfell. As for the dessert, the cooks had decided to make fruit tarts of many kind, to appease to Rhaegar, as tarts were favored in King’s Landing and not in the North.

Wine and ale flowed from the casks while the servants rushed to the guests who constantly emptied their glasses. The bard sang happy chants of gallant knights and their lady loves. The lords, drunk on the seemingly endless wine, howled and sang tunes of their own. 

The ambiance was undeniably northern, despite the feast being thrown to honor the Targaryen prince. Her father’s men wore northern leathers and furs, sang northern tunes, danced northern dances. Without a doubt, the prince would be taken aback by the unfamiliarity. 

Lyanna smiled at the thought. 

Then the prince did something she didn’t see coming.

He rose from his seat and approached her as she was playing with the food before her. She stopped in her tracks and craned her neck up to look at his eyes as he came closer. She tried to hide it, but her face had broken into a scowl in discomfort. 

“My lady, would you have a dance with me?” He asked as he offered his hand to her, like he had commanded her instead of asking. 

Of course, Lyanna wanted to turn his request down, but she couldn’t make a scene in front of her family and probably every lord in the North. “It would be my pleasure, Your Grace.” she answered, trying to smile through her clenched teeth.

Her father gave her a small nod with a toothless smile to show his approval. He knew as well as she did how much it pained Lyanna to pretend to like this stranger who would steal her away from Winterfell in two days turn.

She took his hand and he led her to the dancing floor where drunken lords and ladies were happily swaying to the bard’s songs. Everyone is happy, thought Lyanna, everyone except me.

Her problem wasn’t with the prince. Within reason, she knew the prince was a good match as any. She had long accepted the fact that she would have to become some lord’s wife and bear his children one day. No, the problem was that the prince would take away every single bit of the freedom her father gave her in Winterfell. A princess couldn’t play with swords or ride ahead of the men, she supposed. Princesses were supposed to do needlework and ride in cartwheels. So, she reflected all her anger and desperation on the Prince.

As the prince placed his hand on her waist and she put hers on his shoulder, the bard went from a rowdy tune to a romantic ballad. He is playing ‘My Lady Wife’, Lyanna remarked angrily. She furrowed her brows and felt her lips fall into an ugly sneer.

“Do I disappoint you this much that you can’t even grant me a smile, my lady? Or are you sad because you wish someone else stood where I am at the moment? Is it Lord Baratheon? Be truthful, my lady, you have no reason to be afraid. You are to be my lady wife after all.”  
Rhaegar wondered with a sad smile on his lips.

Lyanna stared at him with an open mouth. She had not expected the prince to be so forthcoming, whether he noticed her disdain about this marriage or not.

“I do not wish anyone else to be in your place, Your Grace. I simply did not expect to be wed in such a short notice and if you will forgive me, you were not who I thought I would be marrying at all.” She tried to keep her voice neutral but the Prince seemed to pick up the snappy tone behind her words.

“I didn’t wish to be married to Lord Robert or any other men. It is not you who displeases me, it is the complete disregard towards my will that makes me angry.” Lyanna continued.

Now, it was the Prince’s turn to be shocked. “I assure you my lady, my father did not ask my opinion on the matter neither, if that’s any consolation for you.” The Prince retorted. 

“Well, it does not, Your Grace. While I am sad to be an inconvenience for you, it is I who is being taken to King’s Landing. At least you get to stay at your home, surrounded by your friends and family.”

Before she could say anything else, Ned walked down from the dais to stop next to the dancing pair.

“May I steal my sister for a dance Your Grace?” He cut in. 

Lyanna looked at him gratefully, glad to end the strained conversation between her and the Prince. Rhaegar caught the look and let out a deep sigh. “Of course, my lord. I was to retire to my chambers anyway. The journey must have tired me out. I will see you tomorrow my lady. My lord.” With a slight bow of his head, the Prince proceeded to the doors. Observing the scene, Ser Arthur Dayne quickly left as well, his giant sword Dawn glittering under candlelight as caught up with the Prince.

Lyanna stared after them as Ned sent a pitiful look at her way and took her hand. 

“Lyanna, you should be more careful when you are speaking with the prince. Or anyone who is not our family at all. How will you fare in the court if you behave like this in your own home?” Ned reprimanded her gently. 

Lyanna knew that her brother was right yet she couldn’t help but answer. “Well, Dearest Ned, it is not you who is wedding the man and being sent to the dragon’s lair, is it. I shall see the day when father marries you off to some Southron girl.”

Despite the words coming from her own mouth, Lyanna knew she was wrong. Staring at Ned’s sad, grey eyes, so like her own, she felt guilty.

Ned would always do his duty, never complaining to father at all. That was what he did when their Lord Father sent him to the Eyrie at the young age of eight. When the time came, he would marry as father saw fit, as well. 

Lyanna supposed she would do the same, despite her little outburst with the Prince. What other choice did she have?


	6. Two Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to King's Landing, Ser Arthur teaches Lyanna a lesson.

Two days after the feast, Rhaegar found himself back on the courtyard of Winterfell, only to witness not a welcome, but a farewell this time. Lyanna Stark was teary eyed, and her brothers and even the ever stoic Lord Rickard looking heavy-hearted as they sent the only daughter of House Stark off to King’s Landing. Rhaegar thought he saw a tear escape Benjen’s eyes, yet the boy tried to hold back his sorrow and hugged his sister keenly.

Had there ever been a time when Rhaegar’s own family looked at each other the way Stark’s did? Would little Lyanna Stark ever shed tears at being separated from him as she did for her brothers? The first answer was no, as far as Rhaegar could remember. And only time could tell the second.

As they passed through the gates of the castle, Lyanna sent one last look at her home. She looked so desperate and unhappy that Rhaegar himself felt guilty for being the one to separate her from her family, though it was no fault of his.

The lady tried to keep her tears to herself, trying to appear strong before the men, but failed terribly. Her nose was red and bloated, and tears clouded her normally sharp, grey eyes though it didn’t make her look any less lovely. She sat straight on her horse, wearing a dress of northern style, in the colors of her house. If not for the dark, rich brown of her wild mane, and the pink lips, she could have easily blended in with the ground covered in white snow and the gloomy skies.

Rhaegar had arranged a cartwheel for Lady Lyanna to travel in, but she had refused his offer with such ferocity that he didn’t dare speaking a word of it again. Why she did so was evident now that he had seen the way she rode the mount under her despite how miserable she felt. Perhaps she did so the forget about her misery.

She rode a garron, a breed usually preferred by Northern peoples, mountain clans and Night’s Watch, known to fare better than most horses in cold weather. The horse moved with such speed under her hand his men and Ser Arthur could only stare after her, taken aback by the pace she had set. The only thing they could do was to rush after her, but their horses grew weary after a while, not used to the Northern weather and terrain.

In the end, Rhaegar had to shout after her to make her stop for a while, until the men could catch their breath.

“Slow down, my lady, you ride as if there is an army on our back. If you are so eager to reach King’s Landing, you don’t need to be. You will spend a lot of time there, I can assure you.” Obviously, this was the wrong thing to say. Lyanna’s brows furrowed immediately at his words.

Even a fool would know not to say that to her face, Rhaegar thought.

While he did not take a particular pleasure in talking to ladies, or most people for that matter, Rhaegar had always been good with words. He wielded them as well as he did a sword but there was a first time for everything. It seemed that the world turned upside down around Lyanna Stark.

“But I simply cannot wait to reach King’s Landing and spend the rest of my life with you, my Prince. All my life, I have waited to be taken prisoner in the Red Keep, you see, and of course, I want to wed my silver prince and bear his beautiful children. You shouldn’t hold me back!” she replied with dry humor, an ugly sneer forming on her face. 

He didn’t bother her afterwards, and ordered his men to not slow down. At this rate, they would make it back to King’s Landing in less time than it took for them to reach Winterfell. 

Even the thought of going back to his father’s keep unnerved him. Away from him, he commanded his men, and himself too. There was no one to order him around and Rhaegar felt like a king, free of the real king’s will. 

Lyanna didn’t talk to him for the rest of the week. The cold winds of the North turned into the soft, chilly breeze of the Riverlands. The earth beneath them was no longer covered beneath a white blanket of and snow, but a green meadow of grass and fertile fields of many crops that seemed to go on forever. The frozen creeks and lakes of North were long gone, and the famous rivers of the land stood proudly before them. 

With the landscape, Lyanna’s mood changed too. For all the love she had for her homeland, she seemed awe struck by the beauty of these new, strange lands so different her kingdom.

Despite their lack of communication, he learned much about his future bride. She did not speak with him, let alone confide anything about herself to him, but she was an open book. She was witty and sarcastic, that he knew before. Underneath the façade she put up for him, she was also sensitive and kind as she was fierce and stubborn. She liked love songs as she did love stories and talked of her home as if one would do of a child to those who asked. She was never anything less than gracious and courteous with his men and Arthur, basically anyone who wasn’t him.

As he got to know her, Lyanna’s opinion about him hadn’t improved much since their dance at the feast, but at least she got along well with Arthur. Like everything about her, the lady had a weird interest in knights and swords. Most ladies were fascinated with knights, but Lyanna Stark cared little for the charm and comeliness that came with knighthood. Instead, she asked endless questions about Ser Arthur’s ancestral sword Dawn and demanded to know how he slayed the Smiling Knight. 

She didn’t like to spend any more time than necessary with Rhaegar, so she supped with the Kingsguard instead. That didn’t change much though, as they were a small party, camping on a small area or staying at an inn. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t get away from him except in her dreams.

* * *

Lyanna liked the Riverlands. She never thought somewhere other than the North could be beautiful in her eyes, but she had never been outside of it before too. She liked to feel the sun shine bright and hot on her skin and the gentle wind caress at her face, so different than the harsh winds she knew. To be able to shed her fur cloaks and wools was a nice change. Her only wish was better company, though she made do.

The Sword of the Morning had become the closest thing she had to a friend during their journeys. She took pride in being independent of Rhaegar and his men, but loneliness took its toll on her soon after leaving Winterfell. Having no one to talk to was hard for a girl who had grown up with three brothers, always up to some kind of mischief, getting in trouble and angering their father. But Ser Arthur Dayne probably had enough tales to entertain her for a lifetime.

“How did you become a knight of the Kingsguard, Ser? Is it not difficult to devote yourself, every second of your life to one man, and do as he says? I can’t imagine giving someone that much power over me yet you chose this life willingly. How come?” one day Lyanna asked, curiosity evident in her eyes.

“I was a knight at thirteen, my lady, and I swore my oaths to the king at sixteen. Yes, it becomes tiring to follow every order, stand guard every minute, witness and hear all, lest it harm the king but I made a choice, and I stand behind it. There is no greater honor the Gods can bestow upon a man than being a Kingsguard. I will live and die among my brothers, good and noble and honorable each one. I went to battle with Ser Lewyn Martell, rode with Ser Oswell Whent, fought with Jonothor Darry. The White Bull himself thought me how to swing a sword and Ser Barristan Selmy honor. All knights must bleed, that I know. Blood is the seal of our devotion. But I know when I bleed, it will be for the good of the realm. I trust Prince Rhaegar will make sure of that.”

It didn’t escape her notice that Ser Arthur said he trusted the prince, and not the king. She wondered if his wording had any meaning, or if it simply showed the reverence of the Sword of the Morning had for Rhaegar. She let the matter slide as to not put the man in a bad position. Perhaps someone else would have thought his words treason. Lyanna did not.

“Not many men can say they lived and died for the realm, can they, my lady?” He asked when Lyanna kept quiet at the mention of Rhaegar.

“Your duty is not to the realm but to the king, Ser.” Answered Lyanna.

“Sometimes, the king and the realm are the same thing.”

Lyanna wondered if he meant King Aerys by that. Surely no one could fool themselves into believing Aerys wanted the good of the realm. She didn’t want to talk of kings anymore. She would see enough kings for a lifetime in a few days.

“You had a choice and you chose this life for yourself whether it makes you happy or not. I had no choice, and I will have to spend the rest of my life in King’s Landing, perhaps as the queen, but still a prisoner in the Red Keep. How will I ever stop missing Winterfell when everything about the South is so different than the North? And this is only the Riverlands, we are not even close to the Crownlands yet.” She asked in a hopeless voice. She got a lump in her throat when she mentioned Winterfell.

“I never said anything about not missing Starfall, my lady.” Arthur remarked with a smile. “You will always miss your home, but it will get easier. As content as I am to be in the Kingsguard, not a day passes by that I don’t wish to stare into the Torrentine from the Palestone Tower, or ride into the Red Mountains with a sand steed under me. I miss the sand and the deserts, I miss the salty sea of Dorne and most of all, I miss my family. But there is naught to be done. One way or another, unless one is their father’s heir, everyone, man or woman, has to leave their home and make one of their own.”

Lyanna had forgotten that Ser Arthur was a foreigner in King’s Landing as she was to be soon. It was easy to overlook his Dornish roots, as he so resembled the Valyrian Lords of Crownlands with his deep purple eyes. 

Ser Arthur turned away from her. His usually bright and lively eyes had become sad with the melancholy of the words he uttered. 

“If my words are any comfort, my lady, I know you will find happiness eventually. It won’t come easily, and you will have to work hard for it. But people learn to make the best of their situation. Life in King’s Landing is not what you know or expected, but you will adapt to it, just like every woman does, or like I did.” 

Lyanna found it hard to believe in that.

He spoke words her father had already told her a thousand times before. One day Lya, you will have a family of your own. Perhaps you will be away from us, away from home, but Winterfell will be always in your heart.

She never had faith in her father either, not about this, but Ser Arthur looked so sincere she couldn’t say so to his face.

“Despite what you might have heard of the royal family, Queen Rhaella is a kind woman with a good heart and Prince Viserys is yet a boy of seven years. I am sure they will welcome you with open arms.” The Kingsguard continued. Lyanna noted he made no such remarks on the King.

“And Rhaegar… Rhaegar is a good man, better than anyone your father could have found for you. I have guarded him day and night for nearly five years now, and been his friend for longer, and I haven’t yet met with anyone who said a bad word of him, at least not anyone whose opinion matter. And nor will you.” The Kingsguard added.

Lyanna didn’t answer but she thanked Arthur for his reassuring piece of advice regardless, though it did little to alleviate her fears and her anger.

Lyanna knew the Prince was a good man. She had heard so from her father, and the man had never acted unkindly towards her even with all her insolent behavior and snappy remarks. She could appreciate that. Not many men would have been as patient as the Prince was with her. Still, it was hard to think she would grow to love this stranger, become his wife, become his queen and birth his children one day.

How could she stop thinking of him as the man who invaded her home to take her to his to keep as prisoner? When would her husband stop being an uninvited guest in her life?

“Everything happens as it should. Perhaps your names were written in the stars, together. Perhaps this is what Gods wanted for you, Old and New. Perhaps it was sorcery, or the words of woodswitch. Whatever you believe in, this is where you are supposed to be, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Sometimes you have to let things be. Everything will be alright in the end.”

Don’t make promises only the Gods can make, Ser, she thought, grey eyes unfocused as she thought of what the knight had said. Was this the will of Gods? Had the Gods she prayed for made her leave the North?

The thought made her grow sad. If so, the Gods are cruel, and we are nothing more than their playthings.

Arthur went on like he hadn’t noticed the sorrow on her face. “Some people live in the past, and tend to forget the future. It is sinful to ignore the gift the Gods offered us. Don’t let memories steal your life from you, my lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments. I wasn't expecting such a nice reaction at all.


	7. Inside the Red Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna is presented to the King, and witnesses the madness within the Red Keep for the first time.

They entered the city at early hours of the morrow, the sun rising behind them as they rode through the gates. From the King's Gate, Rhaegar could see as far as Blackwater Bay. Beneath them, King's Landing sprawled like a maze filled with poor, pitiful smallfolk, rushing to whatever they needed to do to earn their living. The Red Keep stood arrogantly, high and bright on top of Aegon's Hill, just as Rhaegar had left it. Baelor's Sept stood out as a huge monument of pure, white marble in the midst of the filth of the capital. 

He wrinkled his nose as the stinking smell of the city, a mix of salt from the sea, piss and dung in the streets, and the odor of unwashed people, reached his nostrils, though the smell was far from the worst thing about King's Landing. 

The Prince hadn't miss the city one bit.

 

The guards on the walls all bowed to him as the party moved forward. The smallfolk too, had noticed the commotion. Rhaegar and his companions were hard to miss, twenty men on horses being led by the Silver Prince they loved to the point of adoration, also accompanied by a lady no one had ever seen before. The prince riding in the streets of the capital to hand out gold and bread was not an uncommon occurrence, but the presence of a lady would suggest some reason other than the benevolence of their future king. The people would rightly make assumptions regarding Lyanna.

The people of King's Landing suddenly surrounded their horses as they moved into the streets. The women pushed their children his way, begging him to bless them. Rhaegar's men immediately formed a wall of flesh around him for protection but he didn't need any. The people loved him, and he them. What was a king without the people to rule?

The smallfolk stared at Lyanna with wide, astonished eyes, not knowing what to make of this stranger they had never seen in their city before. Every lord and lady of the court would be seen roaming the streets of King's Landing every now and then, at least when entering or leaving the city. Lyanna was a complete stranger to them. Yet they begged her for whatever she could give them, shouting for her attention.

He looked at her, expecting to see displeasure on her face at being stared at so blatantly, only to find happiness there. She appeared truly untroubled for the first time since they left Winterfell. Though she had no coin or food to give out to them, a huge smile appeared on her lips. The smallfolk's enthusiasm for them, for her, the feeling of being of loved, brought out a different side of her than she had allowed him to see.

Slowly, they strode through the roads leading up to the bronze gates of Red Keep. The guards raised the portcullis, and the party finally reached their destination after a long and wearing journey and entered the main courtyard of the castle.

Rhaegar knew that the Red Keep made an impression on first time visitors. It was a small castle, but the handiwork and the engravings on the walls, the polished red marble and seven towers made an impact on nobles and smallfolk alike. Too bad all the beauty couldn't hide the ugliness of its inhabitants.

Rhaegar got off from his horse in the courtyard, and not knowing what to do now that they had arrived, Lyanna followed him to the ground. She stared at him expectantly.

They had to appear before the King first of all, but her riding dress and leather boots wouldn't be welcomed in the Great Hall of the Red Keep. If she looked anything less than perfect in his father's eyes, the king would unleash his famous fury on them, even though it was him who made the decision to marry the two of them.

"I will arrange someone to show you to your room, my lady. You have to change your dress and put on something that will befit greeting His Grace. As you know, we have to make our presence known to the King before we do anything else. I will speak with you after." Rhaegar told her. 

"I will meet you before entering the hall."

"Please be careful in the King's presence, Lady Lyanna. Smile and say your pleasantries. It won't do you any favors if you freely speak your mind. I know this situation upsets you, but you are not in the North anymore." He added after a second.

Lyanna scowled but nodded at him. Relief flooded him as he understood that she finally grasped the gravity of the King's mental condition.

Rhaegar gestured to a maid waiting by the doors, watching the scene unfold. He told her to take the lady to the chambers appointed to her and find servants to carry up her luggage to her rooms.

Then he left for his own chambers in Maegor's Holdfast. Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold greeted him on his way, immediately flanking his sides. Ser Arthur came with him as well to his chambers. 

The outcome of his visit to Winterfell concerned them as well, for they were the only other men of Kingsguard besides Arthur to know of his plans regarding the throne.

"How did your meeting with Lord Rickard go, Your Grace? Are you pleased with the results of your journey?" Ser Oswell asked him discreetly. To an outsider, his words were harmless, mere curiosity about the prince's upcoming nuptials. But Rhaegar knew he asked whether Lord Rickard would stand with the prince or the king when the time came.

"I was, Ser Oswell. Everything so far is to my liking. I will indulge you with the details later."

Ser Oswell and others understood his meaning and did not ask any further questions, at least not for the moment. If the King heard that Rhaegar had a private talk with any lord without informing him, he would have his head without reasoning first. The corridors of the Red Keep were not the best place to have this conversation.

Rhaegar entered his rooms to quickly have a change of clothes and appear as well as could after being on the road for the better part of the last month. The servants had laid his best clothes on the bed. After a short rest, he donned the black, velvet breeches and the silk shirt. Not quite trusting of Lyanna yet, He then sent a guard to fetch her to the doors of the Great Hall, fearing she would not come by her own accord easily.

He was proven wrong, once more by her, as she was already there when he arrived with the Kingsguard on his back.  
The maids most likely didn't have enough time to put her hair into an elaborate bun or braid the Southern ladies preferred, so her dark hair tumbled down the back of the dress.  
Lyanna wore a splendid Southern gown of crimson red embellished with black gems on the corset. He wondered where she could have found a dress like that, for she certainly wouldn't have one made for the occasion. She cared little for the politics of the court, and much less for the symbolism behind clothes, jewelry and hair the courtesans preferred. His father would be pleased when the future princess of House Targaryen appeared before the court wearing their colors. 

And even though she was probably not the one who her choice of gown, Lyanna looked bewitching. The gown was much different from the Northern tweeds and wools she wore in Winterfell and on the road. It was a shiny, flowy silk that bared more than what the northern weather would allow. The pretty but unkempt girl from the road was gone, and in her place stood a beautiful woman.

Lyanna didn't look like she was enjoying it one bit.

"You look enchanting, my lady, though you weren't any less captivating when you were sweaty and tired on the back of a horse." He said teasingly and though he believed in what he said, he did so only to get a reaction out of her. She got terribly flustered and awkward when someone complimented her.

He could see she tried hard not to roll her eyes at him.

"Remember, you aren't supposed to look at anyone who isn't the king. Don't let the crowd distract you, else, the King will take it as an insult. But don't try to make eye contact with him either. That would suggest you are not afraid of him, but you should be. He doesn't like that either."

"Is there anything he likes?" Lyanna questioned. Rhaegar wanted to laugh and answer no, but kept it to himself. He simply shook his head and continued to list what to do and not to in the King's presence. 

"You must kneel when I do but remain quiet when I speak with him. Don't talk to him and answer as shortly as you can if he demands something. I swear, this is for your own good." 

Lyanna accepted what he asked of her without any protest, probably for the first time since he met her.

He ordered the doors be opened and together, they entered the hall before the eyes of the whole court, as the herald announced their names as if anyone didn't know who the prince and his betrothed were.

"Entering the hall, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna of House Stark!" 

The Great Hall was packed with nobles from all over the realm, gathered to witness the introduction of the noble lady entering the royal family. The King was perched on top of the Iron Throne, looking uncomfortable surrounded by its sharp blades, obvious even from a distance. Stood closest to him, The Master of Whispers, the eunuch Varys and wisdom Rossart, the King's most respected advisor. If Rossart is a wise man, then I must be a stable boy, thought Rhaegar. Rossart was known to feed the King's desire for fire, wildfire specifically. The King heeded his advice, and ever since the man arrived at the court, Aerys had started using fire as a punishment more often than not.

Usually, the Hand of the King was the one to be placed near the King in formal occasions, but it seemed Aerys didn't like Jon Connington any more than his previous hands. The Lord of Griffin's Roost sat dejectedly with the rest of the court, albeit in a front seat, ? of the Hand pinned loosely on his doublet.   
As usual three white cloaks stood readily before the King, protecting him from threats coming from anyone and any direction.

Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys were not in the Hall though, despite the importance of the occurrence. Rhaegar wondered what his father had done to his queen while he was gone, not that he could have prevented anything from happening even while he was within his mother's reach. 

The courtesans stirred with curiosity and envy to see the enigmatic, Northern lady unknown to everyone until that very moment. The ladies of the court looked green with jealousy as Lyanna approached the throne alongside him, spite evident in their eyes even behind the smiles they faked for the sake of etiquette.

But Lyanna only looked scared at her first sighting of Rhaegar's father, the expression on her face unlike anything she had shown him before. Rhaegar understood her sentiments, for hearing about the madness of the king and seeing it in person proved to be very different, for every visitor the Red Keep had hosted. No matter how much they knew about the King's affliction, nobles didn't expect the king to look as menacing as he did from the top of the Iron Throne.   
His nails were yellow and cracked, for he did not let a blade close to him they had grown for inches. His beard was long and unwashed, and his hair hung limply to his waist, having been left untrimmed for years. Newly healed scars were apparent even from the ground. It was difficult to believe the King was only eight and thirty yet. 

Even for someone as acquainted with the view, the King's own son, the sight was hard to bear. 

Rhaegar moved closer to the Iron Throne as Lyanna dropped to a knee before the king as he had told her to do. The King's eyes stopped roaming the court and focused on Lyanna instead, inspecting her closely. A thin smile formed on his lips.

A few steps ahead of her, Rhaegar bent his knee at the bottom of his father's throne.

"I present you Lady Lyanna Stark, Your Grace, my betrothed."

"Very well, my son. You will be wed in a month's time, and finally the Dragon will have heirs worthy of this dynasty. Your mother has failed me too many times. I hope the wolf you caught won't be so unlucky."

Lyanna remained as still as stone as the King talked of her as if she wasn't in the room, knowing what was at the stakes. The King rambled some more about the might of the Dragon and when it appeared that his interest in them, specifically in her, started fading slowly, with a twist of his hand, dismissed them.

They bowed to the King one last time and left the hall quietly.

"There is one last thing I must do, my lady. I would be thrilled if you came with me, however you don't have to." Rhaegar told her when they were finally away from the King's eyes.  
Lyanna eyed him curiously at his request. "And what is it that you want from me?"

"I wish to visit my mother's chambers, as you must have noticed she wasn't present in the Great Hall. I have missed her and my brother dearly, and she was very intrigued by you. You are to be married to her son after all." Rhaegar replied.

Lyanna scowled at the mention of their upcoming union but nodded her head slowly in acceptance. "Well, take me to the Queen then, Your Grace."

Rhaegar led her through the maze-like passages of Maegor's Holdfast until they reached the massive doors of Queen's chambers. At the sight of the Prince, a maid entered the rooms and alerted the Queen. The guards opened the door, and Rhaegar found him inside his mother's chambers for the first time since their last conversation over a month ago, only this time he had Lyanna with him, who was nothing more than a name at that time.  
The Queen's chambers were lavishly decorated, the furniture gold and silver, delicate and fitting for a queen. The curtains were made of a rich, white silk that fluttered around the large windows that oversaw the Blackwater Bay. In the middle of it all, sat the frail woman Rhaegar called mother.

Though she lived in such pomp and opulence, the Queen's life was a tragic one. Her face and arms were covered in bruises and her eyes seemed lifeless until she caught the sight of her son. The worst part of it all, Rhaegar was used to seeing Rhaella like this, unable to stop her agony no matter how close he was.

Viserys, always oblivious to what went in the Red Keep played with the wooden dragons and swords that lay at his feet with the ignorance only a seven year old boy could show. Though he was immersed in whatever game he was playing, his amethyst eyes, the same color as his mother's, lifted the moment Rhaegar entered the room. Despite the vast and unusual age difference between them, his little brother had always held a special place in his heart, perhaps because he was the only one who was innocent and untouched by the ruthlessness of the place the Targaryens called home. 

Viserys rushed to embrace him instantly while Rhaella slowly rose from her seat, obviously in pain as she moved.   
"Welcome back, my son. I hope you had a pleasant journey." She greeted her son, a bright smile on her beaten face. Then her eyes fell on the girl beside him. Rhaella studied her intently, just like Lord Rickard had observed him back in Winterfell, but the smile never left the Queen's face. 

"You must be Lyanna, my dear. Welcome to King's Landing. I hope everything is to your liking. If you are bothered by anything, please come to me. We are to be family soon."

Lyanna smiled back at her, apparently thrilled at finally seeing someone acting at least friendly towards her. Rhaegar noticed he had ordered her around for the entire day since they arrived in the Red Keep and felt guilty.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I haven't yet had the opportunity to spend time in my chambers yet but I am sure you have thought of everything. But the dress you had made for me is simply stunning. I am grateful, for I didn't bring anything that would be fit for appearing before the whole court. Not that I had anything of the sort back in Winterfell anyway." Lyanna responded, though half of what she said were lies. She didn't like the dress at all and she probably wouldn't like the chambers either. 

Little Viserys listened to the conversation as he tried to climb on to his brother's leg, failing unhappily. "Mother, who is this lady? Rhaegar, why did you bring her here, I wanted to play with you?" he asked sadly, like Lyanna was going to steal his favorite playmate from him.

The Queen gently chided his brother. "Don't be rude, Viserys. Lyanna is to be your good sister now. Be kind to her, as she will be your family too."

Lyanna wasn't offended at Viserys' rudeness, she looked simply amused. "It is no bother, Your Grace, Prince Viserys is a child. He should be allowed to speak his mind without worrying about pleasantries, at least for now."

"I will escort you to your chambers now, my lady, if there isn't anything you wanted to do."

"Actually, Your Grace, there is. Perhaps you could give me a short tour of the castle. I would like to get to know the place that will be my home from now on. That is, only if you could spare some time for me." Lyanna replied, smiling sweetly. Rhaegar had not expected that. If anything, the Lyanna he knew would be running to her chambers by this time.

"Of course, my lady." 

"Why would you that? I know you don't waste your valuable time frolicking with me in the Maiden's Vault."

"To be honest, I only want to see the Godswood. It probably can't even compare with our Godswood, in Winterfell. I heard it doesn't even have a Heart Tree. Blasphemous! But, it is the only thing that could offer me a piece of home in this rotten place, so take me there.

"Please, Your Grace." She added reluctantly.

"And I didn't want to upset your mother by being rude to you. She seems to suffer enough without dealing me too. Perhaps she will find solace in believing she will have a nice and charming wife for her son.

"And you believe she won't." Rhaegar voiced what she left unsaid with a teasing smile. "Don't think so lowly of yourself, my lady. You may be surprised at what this place might bring out of you."


End file.
